


Crush Girl Love More

by sheafrotherdon, Siria



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: F/M, Kink, Pegging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-02-10
Updated: 2008-02-10
Packaged: 2017-10-03 14:17:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheafrotherdon/pseuds/sheafrotherdon, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siria/pseuds/Siria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Smut, with a side of porn and some kink. Does not meet your RDA of plot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crush Girl Love More

Rodney blows out a long, unsteady breath, blinks and tries to focus his thoughts. It's one thing to be naked and restless, splayed out on Teyla's bed with one leg crooked, utterly exposed, but it's another to know that Teyla's naked too, settling herself behind him, and—okay, that doesn't make sense, because if he's going to be naked on Teyla's bed, it probably _should_ involve some sort of mutual happy skin on skin contact; otherwise it'd be weird, he'd be weird, random bed-sprawling guy, obviously a little out of his mind, because Teyla's not the kind of person to permit unwanted nakedness and he's lying on her beautiful bedcovers, naked and it's not just because he can, because he can make the locks on almost every room in Atlantis do his bidding, but—okay, _focus_, he tells himself, focus, focus—

Which is when Teyla licks him from behind.

He hadn't known women were allowed to do that—not that he's one for antiquated gender roles or anything; Rodney's a firm believer that all people are created equally stupid, regardless of the qualities of their external genitalia—but he's never met a woman before who's shown any interest in this or even any knowledge of it. Teyla's holding him down easily, and her mouth, her tongue is—Rodney feels sweat break out all over his body. One more swipe of her tongue and then she's working it inside him, and he yelps, embarrassingly, so turned on and baffled and generally helpless that he whimpers.

Oh, dear god, he can feel her smiling against his _ass_.

He's so hard that he's riding the edge of actual discomfort—he doesn't think he's ever wanted anything as much as he wants this, and he's twitching, gasping, rubbing against the sheets. "Teyla," he says, "Teyla," voice gone breathless and broken, his fingers tensing uselessly around the headboard where she'd placed his hands; telling him "stay" and "still" and "wait for me", and he is, he does, and patience has never been his strong suit so really, someone should be writing this down, February 10, "Rodney McKay did as he was asked," but this is _Teyla_, and if she wants his whole body suspended there between the headboard and her mouth, well, how exactly is he supposed to do anything other than that? It's torturously slow, the slide of her tongue—everytime she touches him there's a twist and tightening of lust low in his belly, but it's not enough to come, and oh, he wants to come, he wants to come, he wants to _come_. "Please," he whispers, too desperate to be ashamed of how much he wants her hands, her mouth, whatever she'll give him. When Teyla pushes him over onto his back, slides down over him, takes him inside the heat of her body, his eyes slam closed and though he bites on his bottom lip, he can't stop himself from groaning out loud. She's so _wet_ and her thighs are sticky-slick where they press against his hips.

"How long do you think I can keep you like this?" Teyla asks. She tilts her head to one side as she speaks and her tone is as calm and conversational as if she's talking to him about mission requirements in front of Carter; only the high flush of her cheeks and the slight breathlessness of her voice give her away, and Rodney wants to _touch_.

He swallows hard. "Oh," he says weakly. "A pretty long time." He has some experience with the way she works.

The curve of her smile makes him shiver; as does the nip of her teeth at the pad of his thumb when he reaches up with one hand to push a lock of sweat-darkened hair behind her ear, to chase the curve of her cheek. "Good," she says, "I have made plans. It would be a shame to have to change them."

"Plans?" he says, and all-but squeaks as she rocks her hips.

"Mmm," she says, sounding almost absent-minded, letting her eyes drift closed as she shifts in a figure of eight rhythm that grinds her down against him, hard and wet and perfect. "When I accompanied Colonel Carter to Earth for the IOA debriefing, I had the opportunity to make some purchases. The range of American stores is really quite remarkable." Her movements still, and then she's pulling up off him so quickly that Rodney's left whimpering: a noise that doesn't die in his throat when she sees what she's retrieving from the chest at the foot of her bed.

Rodney waves a hand weakly. "You... um... you want to, uh..."

"Yes," Teyla says without hesitation. "I will not want it if you do not; but I think you do, and I desire it. It has always pleased me before." Even while she's talking to him, calm and unhurried, she's stepping into it, sliding the harness on and adjusting the straps that lie dark against her thighs. _God_, Rodney realises, she's done this before; she likes this; Teyla, who's always seemed so sedate, so contained, wants him in a way that's outside of all the rules Rodney's ever known.

He blinks, breath backing up in his chest. "I feel like... I should, maybe offer token objection," he says in a rush. "My masculinity and, you know, stuff."

Teyla crawls up the bed towards him; between her legs, her dick bobs with the movement, thick and heavy. "Really? Why?" she asks as she settles over him on all fours, not close enough to touch but close enough that Rodney can feel the heat radiating off her skin. "If you wish to talk, you can. I can be very attentive." She leans in just enough to lick once, sedately, at the line of his jaw, her wet tongue running against the grain of his stubble.

"I can... we... I get to fuck you some other time, right?" Rodney asks, swallowing hard, trembling.

Teyla arches an eyebrow. "I was thinking several other times, if that is acceptable. Perhaps later on tonight, if you can. The thoughts of having you inside me are always very arousing," she says, as if it's a matter of fact thing that someone who looks like her could want him this much. She reaches down to curl the fingers of one hand around his cock, and Rodney jumps.

"Okay, good, good," he says, and his voice is high and breathy. "I'm just a little out of my element, that's all, a tiny bit inexperienced at these particular sorts of games and, um, a little nervous."

"There is no need for nervousness," Teyla soothes, her voice washing over his body, a touch that's as reassuring as the movements of her hand upwards from groin to belly to throat, drawing tension from muscles and goosebumps from flesh in equal measure. "I didn't know if I would like this my first time, either, but I learned. And I can teach you. We do not have to start with penetration if you would prefer."

Rodney groans softly and shivers. "Oh... we can start with that if you like."

"Are you sure?" Teyla says, leaning down just enough so that her mouth barely brushes his, a tease of a kiss, and her voice is a murmur. "I have been told that sucking my cock is an enjoyable experience."

"Oh, _god_," he says, shocked and breathless, "God, just..." And he twitches. "Let me turn over."

"Yes," she says, words gone sibilant, and she helps turn him over with hot hands, hands that reach under her pillow for a tube of lubricant. Rodney hears the snick of the cap; feels the wetness of her tongue against him one last time before it's replaced by the strange, shocky feeling of her finger pressing inside him, twisting.

He ducks his head, breathes slowly. "Okay," he says tremulously. "That's... weird."

Teyla hums to herself, works her finger slowly in and out and deeper, and presses a lush kiss to the base of his spine. "Yes," she says, "at first; but trust me, the sensation improves very quickly." She crooks her finger.

Rodney groans and shudders. "Oh. Oh that's..." His voice catches.

He knows that if he were to turn his head right now, if he _could_, that he'd see a grin on her face that's utterly wicked, as self-satisfied an expression as ever he's seen on his own face in the mirror, and all of it caused by what she's doing to him. He pushes back against her slowly, reveling in the feeling that produces inside him, the slow stretch, and says hoarsely, cheeks burning hot, "Another one."

"Are you quite sure?" Teyla asks archly. Rodney shivers head to toe at the sound of her voice.

"Quite," he manages, sounding strangled even to his own ears.

If she registers the blurred snap to his words, she doesn't say it; but she gives him two right away with no hesitation, pushing them inside in one smooth movement until she's buried in him to the knuckle and Rodney's voice is one near continuous moan.

"I'm not sure," Rodney says, pausing to catch his breath, "that anything—is supposed to feel this good." He pillows his head on his arms, tries to stifle the noises he's making against his wrist.

"It can feel better," Teyla says, and her body stretches out the length of him, warm like a promise; she braces herself on one hand, her breasts brushing against his back, while she nips at the nape of his neck. All the while, her other hand is still moving inside him, opening him up, and pleasure uncoils along his spine when she works in a third finger.

"Oh, oh god," he whimpers, trembling from the feel of her draped over him. "Teyla..."

"Now?" she says, shifting back to sit on her heels; her fingers are still moving inside him, pressing against that spot with every downward stroke, and the press of her dick is cool and obscene against his skin.

"Yes, yes, yes, yes, if I wasn't clear, _now_ now," Rodney pants.

She nudges his legs apart, just enough that he can feel the burn in his thighs and he's trembling already, thoughts running through his brain in a race with no ending—_I can't believe I; I'm letting her do; I wonder if this; oh my god, oh my god_. He can hear the slick sounds of her rolling a condom onto the cock, of her lubing herself up, and then, oh god then, he can feel the press of the head against his ass. She pushes forward just enough for the promise of pressure to make him gasp, and then she stops and says "Tell me what exactly it is you want, Rodney."

"For you to stop teasing me!" he says desperately. "God, woman, what do you want from me?"

Teyla moves her hips forward again, just slightly, just enough so that the dildo's head pushes inside him enough to burn, but not enough to take away the ache. "Tell me what you want me to do to you," she says evenly.

"Fuck me!" he says, high strung and needy. "FUCK ME RIGHT THIS MINUTE, OH MY GOD."

And she laughs delightedly, takes him at his word, pushes home in one long, glorious thrust of her hips that has him swearing and cursing and begging her for more, and he can hear her above him, whispering how wonderful he looks as she pauses.

"You are a horrible woman!" he pants into the sheets. "I love you very much, but you are a..." and the words die into a long, heartfelt groan as she twists her hips.

"You feel good," she says, ignoring his words, stroking her hands up his heaving sides, letting her nails scratch lightly at him. "Do you know how tight you are around me? I like it." Teyla bends to lick at the broad, flat wing of one shoulderblade, sucks a bruise right there where the skin is delicate, thin; and while Rodney is moaning at that, telling her to stop, begging her for more, she works one hand between their bodies to lightly trace at the edge of him, around where her cock is working faster and faster into his body.

Rodney makes a completely (in his estimation) undignified noise that makes him blush—ears burning, neck flushing, heat creeping down his shoulders.

"You can be noisy," she tells him; and now that teasing, wonderful hand of hers is working around to stroke his cock, her grip riding the edge of too-tight. "I want you to be noisy for me when you come."

"I will be very, very noisy," Rodney says, strangled. "So noisy, just god, please, would you jerk me off? JERK ME OFF, god, please, please, please, please," and he breaks off into rapid pants of helplessness

Teyla's moving in him harder now, fucking him, her thrusts strong enough to push him up the mattress, and he can feel his eyes rolling back in his head, because he's never felt anything like this before, he's never—and her hand is tight around him, stripping him—her weight is warm against his back—he's telling her everything, would tell her more, his secrets and his needs and the math that he was sure meant everything before now—and when she says sharply, consonants crisp, "Rodney, come", he does so with a roar.

He doesn't remember very much after that—a vague sense of discomfort when Teyla pulls out of him and away to discard the harness; how good she smells when she crawls into his arms and he burrows against her, face pressed into her hair. "Oh, hmmmph," he manages, boneless and sweaty.

Her breathing is stuttering too, slowing, and Rodney realises that she must have come from that alone, without him touching her; his arms tighten around her involuntarily, and he can feel the arc of her smile against his throat. "You liked it?" she said, voice a sleep-rich murmur, as smug as a cat who got the cream, and she drags one foot lazily up his thigh.

Rodney whimpers happily. "You're going to be the death of me," he murmurs, kissing her temple, her cheek.

Teyla pulls back a little. "Rodney," she says, mock-seriously, "I do not think it is in very good taste to quote Episode II when we are in bed," and Rodney's laughter shakes him, because when did he ever learn to defy his luck, to end up with a woman who's gorgeous and who loves him and who knows more lines from Star Wars than he does; and he whispers his joy to her while falls asleep, his heartbeat a steady thrum of _love you, love you, love you_.


End file.
